Long Past the Time
by RavenclawGenius
Summary: HGSB: Sirius has fallen through the Veil, but he has not passed on to the land of the dead. Due to a ritual performed years before they were romantically involved, Hermione knows he's still alive and struggles to keep it a secret. Hiatus.
1. Secrets

"Secrets," Harry snarled. "Always secrets. Why can't people just be honest from the start?"

Hermione winced and looked over to Ron, whose color had worsened since Harry had stalked back from Dumbledore's office. He was on a rage, and it was worse than anything they'd ever seen before.

Oh, and how easy it was for him to mutter and scowl and curse even the word "secret" when he had kept so many of his own. She bit back the thought of it before it defensively sputtered from her mouth. She had kept her own secrets, too, she reminded herself. But she was not pacing back and forth in front of the Gryffindor fire, hypocritically raving over the unfairness of them.

He's lost his godfather, she told herself. He wants to be angry at something.

"And _you_, Hermione!" He spat. "You knew before we left tonight that it could have been a trap! You told me it could've been!"

Well now, there went her restraint. She cried out in indignation, and shouted, "Exactly! I _told_ you! And when you refused to listen to me I went with you. Do _not_ turn this on me, Harry Potter. Don't you dare."

She whirled around and stormed out of the portrait hole, frantically running through the passageways until she found herself at the doors of the Entrance Hall. Panting, both from her anger and from exhaustion, she turned around.

"_Think, Hermione. Prancing about on the grounds won't do anything for you."_

She collapsed against the wall and drew her knees up to her chest, sobbing with relief and fury. "_You filthy _mutt_!" _She cursed back at him. "_I was scared to death for you! And you waited so long to talk to me, when I was screaming your name for hours after you fell!"_

"_Please, my love,"_ Sirius said. He sounded weary. _"It is very dark here, and very quiet."_

"_Where are you?" _Hermione asked softly. _"Sirius, where are you? I'll find you, I swear I will."_

"_My lioness, you cannot find me here. It is as good as the land of the dead. I cannot be pulled from here."_

"_Don't say that,"_ she hissed. _"Never say it, Sirius Black. I need you. I _need_ you."_

"_And I you. Listen to me, Hermione. The Veil is a very well-known dark artifact. It is not something one can return from. There is said to be no communication through it, even as one would stand just beside it," _Sirius said gravely. _"I cannot be brought back from here."_

"_But we can communicate, Sirius,"_ she snapped. _"And if we can communicate, who is to say that you cannot be taken from there? You _will not_ say it again, mutt. And I will not hear another word of the kind."_

He said nothing for a long moment, and then she heard him crying. _"I do not wish to leave,"_ he said, _"but it is easier to believe that I will remain here forever than to hope for a better outcome and have every dream dashed."_

"_I know,"_ she said back. _"I know, baby. I'll talk to Dumbledore; I'll tell him about what we've done. Just – just don't go anywhere. I still need you, Sirius."_

"_I love you, Hermione."_

"_Me too," _she answered through a sob. _"I love you too."_

**/**x**\**

_Author's Note: _Alright, so this is just a prologue. The idea sort of jumped me while I was writing the seventh chapter of _Gone Too Long_ and I wanted to write it up before I lost it. **This story will not be a main priority.** I will write it when the mood strikes me, or when I have writer's block on my other story. I hope to update it relatively often, but do not hold me to it. Please review if you think I should continue. **: )**


	2. Anecdotes

"_Hermione, go see Pomfrey," _Sirius encouraged. _"You're hurt."_

"_I'm fine,"_ she said. _"I'll be fine. I need to see Dumbledore."_

She heard him sigh again – for the umpteenth time, it seemed – but she ignored him. Her ribs were killing her, she could admit to herself, but Sirius' life was much more pressing to her. He always had told her that she cared too much for others. Of course, then he had been admiring it, and now it was frustrating him.

Hermione was walking slowly, because she simply couldn't walk any faster. She didn't know where Dumbledore was, but she hoped his office was a fair bet. If not, then she would simply keep searching.

As a prefect, she knew the password to Dumbledore's office. She uttered it softly, ignoring the twinge in her ribs when she spoke.

She supposed that she had been too angry with Harry to notice the pain before, but it was forceful and painful. She didn't know what curse she was hit with, and that bothered her to an extreme, but again – Sirius' life was much more pressing to her.

She heaved herself onto the first step and allowed the steps to carry her the rest of the way. She knocked on the door at the top, hoping fervently that he was in. He had to help; he always knew what to do.

"Enter," Dumbledore said. He sounded tired, she noted immediately. As he well should, she added. He had put up a strong fight tonight too, and despite his cheerful attitude and sometimes boyish smile, he was definitely not as young as he pretended to be. It hurt to think of it, but she knew that it was true.

"Professor," she said quickly, "Sirius isn't dead."

Dumbledore sighed. "I know, Miss Granger."

"No, you don't understand. I mean that I _know_ he isn't dead, because I can still hear him," she hurried. "Just let me explain first, please. I'll see Pomfrey after, I swear… I just need your help," she begged. Saying that she would see Madam Pomfrey had been for Sirius' benefit, but he had turned suspiciously quiet.

Dumbledore said nothing, and nodded quietly, confusedly.

"In my third year," Hermione started anxiously, "I made a mistake. I knocked my time-turner back when Crookshanks – my cat – nudged my hand over a few extra notches. Hungry, I guess. And I ended up in Sirius' fifth year at school. I don't have time to go into details, but we were friends – really close friends. I stayed for a couple years; if you'll remember I had a major leap in my appearance that year and the next. I grew while I was with them. And when Sirius was asked to be Harry's godfather, we did something that might have been very stupid, or very lucky.

"There's a ritual… it's called the _fides ex fides_ bond – trust from trust. I told you we were very close friends. Ultimately it gave us both a very strong protection shield, because we all knew by then that Voldemort was after Harry and Lily and James. He wanted to take care of Harry, should the time come to do it.

"But the bond sort of gave us more than protection. It more or less allowed us free communication at any time, and permanent access to each other's thoughts. When Sirius was framed, he told me to go back to the future, and to make sure that he made it away from harm. And I did it. But the communication didn't stop when I came back through time, as I had feared it would, and we were able to speak again. And – and Sirius is still alive, Headmaster. I know he is; I can still hear him," Hermione finished desperately.

Dumbledore was quiet for a moment, and then he stood wearily. "You should visit Madam Pomfrey, Miss Granger. And I shall have another look at the Veil. It might help to have access to a voice from the inside; I'm sorry if I might have to use you as a sort of translator, but it might be necessary. For now, have yourself checked out."

She sighed, relieved and exhausted, impatient and edgy, alone and frightened. "Yes sir," she said quietly, tears building up behind her eyes. She couldn't refrain from hugging him. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you so much for believing me."

"_He would never have thought you were lying,"_ Sirius said quietly.

"_I need you back with me,"_ she answered, subdued. _"If he's the one that's going to make that happen, then I will thank him until the very day that I die."_

"_I love you, Hermione,"_ Sirius said, after a long pause. _"I'm sorry I'm such a trouble to you."_

"_Stop,"_ she said firmly. _"You have never been, nor will you ever _be_ a trouble to me."_

He didn't answer, but she could feel the rush of gratitude and love radiate from him, and she responded in kind. _"You'll be okay, mutt,"_ she said softly. _"You will."_

He had to be.

"Come, child. To the infirmary," Dumbledore urged, gently leading her to the doors. "Thank you for confiding in me, Hermione."

She blinked furiously, stemming the onslaught of tears, and whispered, "Bring him back to me, Professor. Please. I need him back."

**/**x**\**

**Author's Note:** Please review. I know the chapters are short, but I hope you enjoy nevertheless. **: )**


	3. Ideas

Hermione rustled through pages hurriedly, frowning.

Sirius had said that the Veil was a very well-known dark artifact. Why wasn't it listed anywhere?

"_Well-_known_, Hermione. The pureblooded families who would have a use for the Veil wouldn't want the authorities to find out about it, would they?"_

Hermione ignored him.

Her eyes were tearing up, but she ignored that, too.

She slammed the book shut and returned it to the shelf, turned around and slid to the ground. She didn't have time to cry. _And I don't have a reason to,_ she thought to herself. Sirius would be fine. Dumbledore was going to help, and she wouldn't be able to rest properly until he was safe again.

Hermione inhaled sharply and stood up. Struck with an idea, she hurried to the statues that guarded Dumbledore's office and muttered the password, rushing up the stairs.

"Come in, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said tiredly, after she had knocked softly.

"Professor," Hermione started slowly, "I wondered if… if I might go with you when you went to see it."

"_Hermione, no," _Sirius said firmly.

"_You don't have a say in it,"_ she retorted.

Dumbledore measured her carefully while Hermione fidgeted under his searching gaze. "Have you seen to your injuries, Miss Granger?"

"Yes sir," Hermione answered obediently. "I've been given a regiment of potions to take daily."

"You don't look well. Perhaps you should rest."

"_Good man,"_ Sirius said.

"Professor," Hermione argued, "I _can't_ rest. You don't understand. I – I _need_ him. I haven't – I haven't done anything without him in years. I _have_ to get him back."

Dumbledore closed his eyes and nodded. "I had thought that perhaps your attachment to him was due to the bonding ceremony, however I'm beginning to see that it's more than that."

Hermione didn't know what to say to him. She'd known it would be a shock to him, but she would never deny her feelings for Sirius – not to Dumbledore, or to anyone else. She loved him. She _needed_ him.

"Miss Granger, I must ask what you will do if it happens that we cannot retrieve him from the Veil."

"Don't," Hermione said sharply. "Don't you ever say that. There has to be a way; I can't think anything else, Professor. I won't let myself think anything else."

He was quiet for a few, horrifying moments, and then he nodded. "I planned to go after the Leaving Feast on Friday. You may accompany me if you so wish it."

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said gratefully. "Thank you."

"_Are you happy? You've gotten what you wanted. Now, for Merlin's sake, rest."_

"_Why can't you understand how hard it is for me to be here without you?" _Hermione snapped. _"Why can't you see that I'm killing myself for not being there?"_

"_I know it's hard, otter. I do. But you need to take care of yourself. If I can't come back… you still need to keep yourself healthy. This isn't your fault."_

"_But it is my fault," _Hermione said quietly. _"If I had told Harry the truth about us, he wouldn't have gone to the Department of Mysteries that night. You wouldn't have been there at all, Sirius."_

"_We both agreed not to tell him, Hermione. It's as much my fault as it is yours,"_ he argued.

"_But I'm not the one who's almost dead, Sirius! If it were you that were still walking, and breathing, and living, and I were the one that had fallen, what would you do then, Sirius? What would you do?"_

He didn't respond for a few minutes, and then he answered very softly, very slowly, _"It's very different, Hermione. I have _nothing_ without you. You're my _everything_. You have people to live for, still."_

"_But you're the only one that I _want_ to live for. Why can't you see that?"_ She asked desperately.

"_I'm starting to. Get some rest, Hermione. I love you."_

Hermione trudged up the stairs to her dorm and ignored Harry's glares on her way up. She collapsed against the bed and crushed a pillow to her chest, sobbing.

"_For God's sake, don't leave me, baby," _she whispered to him.

She didn't expect a response, but he answered. _"I'm not trying to,"_ he said thickly, his voice clouded with emotions and perhaps a tear or two.

**/**x**\**

**Authors Note:**

First, I might be changing the title of this story, so watch out for it. I was advised by a faithful reviewer that my story deserved a more unique title, so I'm considering others. Thanks Zencry!

Second, I know that not much is happening right now, guys, but stuff will. It'll start with the visit to the Department of Mysteries next chapter, so don't give up on me yet! Review, please!


	4. Hold Me

Hermione picked at her food absentmindedly and ignored Parvati and Lavender's frequent glances in her direction. They only wanted to know why Harry was angry with her, and she had no intentions of sharing. It was none of their business anyway.

"_You don't have to go," _Sirius said.

She didn't answer him. She _did_ have to go, and he knew she would.

Sirius sighed. _"You haven't slept. Granted, you've been very systematic with your medication, as per instruction, but it'll do nothing for you if you haven't rested, love. You're exhausted, and you're not well."_

"_Damn it, Sirius, shut up! I'm so _sick_ of hearing you mutter on about how I should take care of myself! You haven't rested! You're not well! And if I'm exhausted, I'd hate to put a name to what you must be right now. Stop taking care of me, mutt. Take care of yourself, and when I get you out, I'll take care of us both. Until then, you keep your mouth shut about what _I_ need to do to keep healthy."_

Sirius quieted, and then whispered softly, _"When, my love, did we become one of those storybook couples? When did we begin to care more for each other than for our own personal health?"_

Hermione smiled, somewhat wistfully, and murmured, _"Far before we fell in love, baby."_

"Hermione?" Ron whispered softly. "I er… you know, Harry's being a git about this whole thing. I tried to talk him out of this fit he's in, but you know how he gets."

"It's alright, Ron," she responded. "Thanks for trying, anyway."

Ron nodded, and then leaned closer toward her. "Fred and George sent Ginny an owl and told her that the Order's right pissed about what happened. I imagine we'll not be getting off too easy."

"Not here," she said. "We'll talk about it later. I've got to run, Ron. I've got something to finish up."

"Yeah," Ron said, watching as she stood up. "Sure. I'll – I'll see you later, then?"

"Yes," Hermione said, slightly baffled. "Of course you will."

"_That was odd,"_ she said.

"_Not so much,"_ Sirius responded, growling. _"He fancies you, darling."_

"_I know that,"_ she answered, frustrated. _"It's odd that he's suddenly decided he wants to do something about it. Don't start getting all macho on me now – you know I love you. It's just strange, is all."_

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore acknowledged, nodding his head in her direction as she approached his desk. "I was just informing Professor McGonagall that you and I would be dipping out for the evening. I expect you're prepared to leave immediately?"

"Yes sir," Hermione nodded.

"Albus, I just cannot understand why – " McGonagall said.

"As I've explained to you, Minerva, certain things have come to my attention and I believe that it will benefit all involved if Miss Granger were to accompany me on my excursion," Albus interjected weakly. "Perhaps, with time, some light shall be shed on the situation, however it is not currently my information to share."

"Of course," McGonagall answered with a small, curt nod, eyeing Hermione with slight suspicion. "Of course," she repeated. "The two of you should best be on your way, then, I suppose."

"Goodbye, Professor," Hermione said, her voice small.

"Come along, Miss Granger. We shall apparate into the Ministry. We've an appointment."

She trailed along behind the headmaster until they passed through the gates, just outside of the school grounds.

"Hold on to me, Miss Granger," he advised. "Your landing might be a tad rough."

Bracing herself, she nodded and took hold on his arm. A whirl of colors surrounded her and she felt unbelievably sick. Her feet landed first, and she leaned on Dumbledore to keep herself from falling under the weight of her body.

"Sorry," she said.

He ignored her and said, "This way."

She noticed abruptly that they had not Apparated into the typical reception area, but directly into another department. The Department of Mysteries, if her memory served her correctly.

She shivered involuntarily and felt the warmth of a hug from Sirius envelope her.

"_I miss you,"_ she said.

"_I miss you as well, my love."_

Hugging her arms nearer to her body, Hermione trailed behind Dumbledore until he stopped at a solid black door, and tapped it twice with his wand.

Ominously, the door creaked open and admitted them into an office. A youngish looking man was seated behind the metal desk. The room was bare; no photographs or documents, no paintings on the wall, no furniture but for the desk in the center of the room, and plain, dull white walls. It reminded Hermione of a quarantined room.

"Ah, Albus… I had hoped not to see you again quite so soon. And this must be the young lady you were telling me of? Miss Granger, what an honor," the man said. His voice was smooth and calming, as if practiced in handling delicate matters.

"And you as well, sir," she tried a smile, but she was in too much pain, emotional and physical, for it to come out right.

"Forgive me," he smiled dazzlingly, "my name is Bryan Nelson."

She nodded, attempting to remain interested. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Nelson."

"Bryan," Dumbledore said, "could you, perhaps, escort us to the Veil?"

Nelson's demeanor faltered slightly and he sighed, but nodded. "I must warn you both," he struggled, "it is quite a task to keep away from the Veil. You are not to look directly at it, do you understand?"

"Yes sir," Hermione nodded, as it seemed that he was speaking more directly to her than to Dumbledore.

"_I don't think this is a good idea, Hermione," _Sirius said, with apparent difficulty.

"_Sirius, don't do this. Not now. Not when I've – "_

"_Hermione, I can _feel_ you. I don't mean as I usually can. I don't mean just in my mind. I can… I can feel you closer to the Veil, and it's tempting me to…"_

"_To what, Sirius?" _She asked.

"_Hermione, don't come near it. I just – I don't know what's going to happen to you if you do, and I don't know what, exactly, I'm tempted to do, but it's nothing good."_

"Miss Granger? If you'll follow me," Bryan said, pressing a hand against her lower back and guiding her through several rooms, which Hermione was too unfocused to pay any mind to.

Finally, he directed her to a room guarded by a solid steel door, which he tapped several times in an odd manner and asked them to turn away while he finished the last parts of the combination. When the door silently fell open, Hermione first noticed that the walls consisted of the same material as the door. Then, she noticed the scattered group of people that were in the room.

"Forgive us, Miss Granger," Bryan apologized, "but this Veil has been a mystery to us since we obtained it fifty years ago. We're unsure of exactly how this connection between you and Mr. Black functions, but this is the first potential breakthrough we've had since it has been in our possession."

Hermione nodded uncomfortably, unfocused on his words. She stared at the floor directly in front of the Veil.

"_Sirius?"_ she asked shakily.

"_Stay there. For Merlin's sake, otter, stay right where you are."_

"_If I go closer,"_ she asked nervously, _"what will happen?"_

"What's happening to her?" A woman asked anxiously.

"I'm fine," Hermione said distractedly, looking around and suddenly turning around to face Bryan. "Put up a wall."

"Excuse me?"

Agitatedly, "Put up a damn wall. A few inches from the Veil. It needs to reach from the floor to the ceiling, and it needs to be thick. I'd do it myself, but I can't use my wand. Hurry."

"_Talk to me, baby," _she whispered soothingly.

"_Hermione, please… I don't like this. I – I feel malevolent."_

"_You're not evil, Sirius. This isn't your doing. Stay focused,"_ she said, as Bryan and Dumbledore collaborated on what type of wall to erect. When they had completed the task, she asked, _"Are you still alright?"_

"_It's not me that I'm worried about. Hermione – "_

She stepped closer, hesitantly, and stopped directly in front of the new, steel wall.

"_Come closer,"_ Sirius whispered, and Hermione was tempted.

"_Why?" _She asked. _"What's it like?"_

"_I miss you. Come closer… just touch me, Hermione. Reach in and… and just do it."_

She blinked twice, and looked back at the floor. _"I miss you too," _she said.

"_Take my hand, otter," _Sirius pleaded.

"You don't exist," Hermione realized suddenly, and felt him recoil in pain.

"What do you mean?" Bryan asked urgently.

Hermione ignored him. _"You don't physically exist, do you? That's why it's so dark. That's why it's so quiet. You can't see or hear anything, baby. You can hear me because… because my soul is linked to yours, but you can't hear or see me… You feel me."_

"_Stop analyzing me, Hermione," _Sirius begged. _"I just want to hold you. You're so close… Come to me."_

"_Sirius!"_ She said abruptly, attempting to jerk him from his hypnotized state. _"Listen to me. I can't touch you. I can't hold you. I can't see you, or hear you. I _feel_ you. I can grasp onto your thoughts because of the bond that we made together, but you don't exist."_

"_No, I – "_

"_I need to get away from here, mutt. I can't keep pushing away from you if I stay this close. Find your body. Find out where it is, and we'll go from there."_

She turned away from him, pale, shaky, and undeniably unsteady.

"Miss Granger?" Dumbledore asked.

"I – I'm going to faint," she said, as his words twirled through her ears and the room, gray and motionless, grew colorful and spun around her.


	5. Throb

"How the hell did she figure that out?"

"How should I know? She's just – "

"She's bloody smart, is what she is."

"Well what else does she know? She just had a goddamn epiphany when she blacked out."

"We can ask, but – "

"We have to get her back in there."

Hermione groaned and squeezed her eyes shut. Her head was throbbing, no thanks to the hundreds of voices surrounding her. Sirius was there somewhere, too, but he was providing a gentle presence, opposed to the busyness and anxiety that was swarming her bedside.

"Miss Granger?" An overeager voice said in a tone that reminded her distinctly of a squirrel.

Her head throbbed.

She groaned again.

"Miss Granger, can you sit up, please?" The squeaky voice asked again.

"Sir," she said, working around a tense jaw and clenched teeth, "can you... be quiet for a moment, please?"

He said nothing, and she could almost sense confusion radiating off of him, but she couldn't find the energy to care. She must've been out for a while, because she could feel the pain in her back and ribs fighting to make themselves known. She'd taken her medications just after she'd eaten, so if it was time for another dose, it must have been at least a few hours.

With a sigh, she prepared herself to open her eyes and attempt to push herself up. She succeeded, but not without pain.

There must've been at least thirty people around her.

She made a face, and said, "I'm alright. Erm… I just stood too close for too long, I suppose."

"Quite alright," Bryan said.

She was able to focus on the faces and single him out. She nodded wearily in his direction. "Where is Professor Dumbledore, sir?"

"He should be returning momentarily, Miss Granger," he responded, shoving his way forward and taking a seat to the left of her bed, forcing her to uncomfortably shift positions to look at him.

"Sir, where exactly am I?"

He chuckled dryly and then shook his head. "We conduct many… experiments in the Department of Mysteries, Hermione. It's not all that odd to have a side-effect or two, and a black out certainly isn't out of the ordinary. We've a separate ward for such occasions."

"If it's so regular for people to black out," she asked him quietly, "then why are there so many people watching me?"

"We've ah… managed to confirm what you said before," Bryan informed her.

The look of bewilderment that she countered with must have informed him that she had absolutely no idea what she'd said 'before'.

"Of course you wouldn't remember," he sighed. "You weren't precisely speaking to _us_, in any case. You mentioned that the… voices inside of the Veil aren't exactly… well, real. We used a muggle machine and held it up to the Veil to detect sounds, and there were none. The voices really aren't there. But – "

"Excuse me, sir, but that wasn't what I meant to imply," Hermione said, aggravated. "Of course the voices aren't _there_. That's why nobody but the person next to the Veil can _hear_ voices. They're in our heads. I don't understand _why_, but they are," she paused, pondering, then shook her head and continued. "I meant that their bodies don't physically exist within the Veil. They can't actually hear us, if we speak to them. I mean," she started again, aware that they wouldn't understand, "that _most_ of them wouldn't be capable of hearing it. Sirius can hear me because of the bond, but, as far as I'm aware, none of the others can hear at all.

"It's because their bodies aren't _in_ the Veil. They don't technically have ears; they can sense when someone they love is near them, and they can tell them things, but it typically sounds very desperate, very needy and urgent," she looked down at her hands. "Sirius was ah… very adamant on me not coming near the Veil. He said he felt… malevolent. He didn't know what he would do if I got too near to it, but he didn't want me near it at all. He continued to try to convince me to touch him, as I've been lead to believe happens in most encounters with loved ones in the Veil."

"_I'm sorry,"_ Sirius said, sounding regretful, almost mournful.

"_It isn't your fault,"_ she said fiercely. _"You cannot blame yourself for that; it was entirely my fault and I don't regret it. This puts us a step closer to figuring out the way to get you out of there."_

"_I could have brought you with me, had that wall not been there."_

"I think," Hermione said slowly, "that their bodies must go somewhere else. I'm not sure if it's in our world or theirs, but the bodies have to go somewhere. They can't just disappear."

"We'll definitely be looking into that," Bryan said. "Excuse me for a moment."

He blended back into the throng of people, who had been intently listening to her speculations, and spoke to them in low tones. She was sure that he didn't want her to hear.

"_Yes,"_ Hermione said to Sirius, toggling between the two conversations, _"you _could_ have taken me with you into the Veil. But you _didn't_, Sirius. The wall _was_ there. I'm alright. And you will be, soon enough."_

She was aware that she'd been making them all out to be idiots, but honestly, her theories were sort of obvious. Granted, they didn't have a voice on the inside as she did, but they'd had the Veil for more than just a few years; it had been in their possession for a long time.

She knew that the Department of Mysteries was the intelligence branch of the Ministry, but for a group of people meant to be so wise, they came off as entirely less than average. Although her moodiness and pain was more than likely contributing to the unkind thoughts, she couldn't help but think that it was at least partially true.

Hermione rested her eyes for a moment, despising the thud in her ribs and the yelp in her back.

"Miss Granger?"

Relief. Finally, someone with more than half a brain.

"Professor Dumbledore," she smiled weakly.

"I suspected you might wish to return to the castle soon. After all, it's past eleven in the evening, and you've a train to board in the morning."

_Home._ She'd forgotten, truly. She'd been fully absorbed in finding out how to restore Sirius' body and health. She didn't want to go home until he was safe. What could she do to help him from the muggle world? Not much.

"Yes sir," she murmured, sighing.

"You mustn't leave!" Squeaky Voice proclaimed loudly.

Hermione cringed.

"Why?" She gritted her teeth, which in all likelihood did not help her headache, but stopped her from decapitating the man on the spot.

Dumbledore chuckled and patted her hand lightly.

"You must stay!" He exclaimed. "You've just given us the best lead on the Veil that we've ever had! You must perform a few more tests for us, at the very least."

Anger and exhaustion pulsed through her erratically, and she said, "First, sir, I would like to make it clear that there is nothing that I _must_ do, so I would thank you kindly to refrain from saying so. Second, should I feel the need to 'perform more tests'," she spat disdainfully, "it would certainly not be for _your_ benefit at all. I would remind you that I care very little for the Veil and the project you've made of it, I simply care that Sirius is released from it. I _would_ remind you of that _gently_, however I was meant to take my medication three hours ago, my back and ribs are in excruciating pain, I'm exhausted, and, to be quite frank with you, sir, your voice is driving my head toward its combustion point ridiculously fast, so you'll understand if I'm not feeling particularly _gentle_."

"Well then," Dumbledore said, the lines in his face twitching as he fought off a smile and a bark of laughter, "I expect we'll be off now. Bryan," he nodded, shaking the shocked man's hand, "I shall contact you before our next visit."

"Yes," Bryan murmured. "Yes, of course. Good day, Dumbledore… Miss Granger."

Hermione stared at him incredulously and shook her head, carefully rising from the bed.

"_Absolute moron, he is,"_ Sirius chuckled.

"_Duly noted,"_ she responded sardonically, leaning against Dumbledore as he prepared to Apparate them from the Ministry.

Colors, again, and that uncomfortable feeling that she was being squished through a space far smaller than her size, and then they landed. She hissed in pain as her knees buckled beneath her, but kept herself standing by gripping Dumbledore's waist a tad tighter.

"Come, Hermione," he said softly. "We should get you situated, yes?"

"_Yes,"_ Sirius murmured tenderly. _"Rest, otter."_


	6. Peaceless

_Author's Note: This chapter and the next will show the story leading up to Hermione's and Sirius' relationship, and probably answer a few questions about how the timetravel situation worked out. **Point: The next two chapters take place in the past.**_

**_- - - -_**

Hermione rushed into her dorm room and emptied her bag, voiding it of all books. She stole a few more from beneath her bed, and quickly shoved them in the bag. She then proceeded to toss it over her shoulder.

She gave Crooks a quick scruff behind the ears, and turned around to lift an apple off of the tray on her desk. McGonagall had admonished her eating habits a few days prior, so Hermione made a point to attempt to make time for food, but it was tough. There were so many classes, and there were so many assignments; food became secondary to her schoolwork.

She quickly took a few bites out of the apple, and placed it back on the tray. She checked one last time to make sure that her books were all tucked away in her bag, and lifted her hands to the golden chain around her neck.

Hermione did the math in her head quickly – determining that she needed to go back four hours – and carefully moved the small knob back until it clicked four times.

And then Crookshanks pounced on her, jerking her hand backward, and she felt the knob slide out of her grasp, quickly losing track of the amount of clicks with a growing amount of horror. The knob eventually stopped clicking, because its spins were so out of control. It became a constant whirring sound, and it showed no intentions of stopping, She hardly had enough time to throw a glance in Crooks' direction before she felt the air around her confine itself, almost as if it were attempting to squeeze her out of it.

She struggled to breathe for a few minutes, and then landed rather suddenly with a harsh crash in her very same room.

But Hermione was not foolish enough to believe that she was in the very same time.

Some girls were climbing the stairs – only two or so, Hermione judged by their footfalls – and after a quick assessment of the situation, she threw herself into the bathroom and jumped behind a shower curtain.

"Really, Mira," an exasperated girl sighed, "I can't understand why you would _want_ to be with him; he's already had mostly everyone in school!"

"Just because you've got your sights set on James Potter doesn't mean the rest of us haven't got the right to ogle his mates," the girl called Mira responded cheekily. "And besides, Sirius is much better looking."

"The rest of the female population agrees with you," the other girl murmured, having given up long ago on protesting the infatuation that her friends all assumed that she secretly harbored for James Potter.

"Lily, really, I'm not looking for a long-lasting love. I _want_ a casual fling, and Sirius is just the bloke for it."

Lily sighed again, clearly disgruntled with her friend's low standards.

Hermione could hear them rustling about, but she wasn't paying attention. Her blood ran cold. She was at school with Harry's parents. Dread settled in the pit of her stomach. She forced her breaths to even out before she had a full blown panic attack.

That would have to wait until they left.

"Do you have my Astronomy text, Lily? Thanks. You know, you've really got to stop taking my books, Lils. I know you've got some strange affinity for learning, but you know McGonagall's only looking out for you by putting a limit on your classes. I think you should respect that, and maybe consider lightening your load a bit."

"I'm _fine_," Lily insisted. "I just enjoy reading about the other courses that I brushed off, is all."

Hermione heard the pair of them laugh, and soon after their voices trailed off as they traveled down the steps and back into the common room.

Finally allowing a small amount of panic to settle in, Hermione paced the floor of the loo. What was she supposed to _do_? Timeturners didn't turn time forward! The only record of twisting time back for longer than a week previous was from a man who was, in her time, three centuries old. He had never returned to his proper generation, and had lived onward from the point that he had traveled back to in the past. It was _not_ common to travel back for more than a few hours, and even worse – it was _not_ approved of. There was a reason that all timeturners were kept within the Ministry, and it was to keep things like this from happening.

So how would she get back? They'd never exactly trained her for "in case of emergency" situations. She had no one to go to, no one to harass for answers. And she _hated_ not having answers.

She inhaled slowly, ebbing the panic away with patience and logic.

She surely would not allow herself to be stuck in this time period, if only because she knew how it turned out, and knew that it wasn't pretty. She couldn't change the past, she knew, although she was sorely tempted to try it. But there was no telling what that would do for the future.

And she was getting ahead of herself, anyway. She hopefully wouldn't be here for that long. And she hopefully wouldn't become close enough to anyone for it to make a difference.

But she needed a step-by-step plan. Hermione Granger was a very intelligent, logical being; her mind was not settled until she knew what she was doing and what she was dealing with. Right now, she knew the situation, but she needed some sort of solid, feasible strategy.

Appearance first, then. She knew for a fact that she'd be seeing Remus and Sirius sometime in the future, and neither of them had ever given any indication that they'd seen her before, so it would remain that way. Glamour charms were a must.

Setting out to complete that seemingly minor task was more difficult that one might've imagined. Hermione spent a moment of regret before following through with it. She'd never been much into make up or clothes; she was a firm believer in the fact that personality outshone appearances, and that although looks were nice, if you weren't fortunate enough to be graced with them then it was safer and better to just use what you had. In her case, that was her intelligence, and that was the one thing that she'd always been confident in.

Perhaps her hair wasn't the most attractive, and her teeth had once been a bit too large for what was considered average. And maybe she wasn't terribly interested in fashion or the latest trends. But no one denied her intelligence. That was her forte, her strong suit, and she'd stuck close by it.

It felt a bit like self-betrayal to change her image, and more than a bit hypocritical of her. It took a moment of persuasion in order to convince herself that this was not the same, because this matter – this traveling back in time and potentially mucking up the future – was far bigger and reached far beyond where she stood.

With one final grimace at herself in the mirror, Hermione sighed and took her wand out from the pockets of her robes. She charmed her hair so that it was more of a sunkissed blonde than brunette, but managed it in a tasteful manner – in other words, one that _didn't_ make her look like the stereotype a muggle cheerleader – and she moderated her curls until they were waves, instead.

It took a lot of coaxing to change her eyes. It wasn't that they were special or unique, it was more that they described her. She'd always held an above-average capacity for knowledge, and perhaps an above-average capacity for caring. She'd learned, however, to temper how much compassion and intelligence she could visibly express.

People tended to abuse common kindness and manipulate those who possessed it, and her cleverness had always seemed to aggravate people. She'd acknowledge and accepted that. So she'd buried those traits inside of her, but they always escaped through her eyes, no matter what she tried. And she'd always been slightly pleased with it.

It was very difficult to take a wand and conjure a pair of color contacts – quite a feat, considering she'd never really studied a pair of them before – and placed the seagreen-colored lenses in her eyes.

There wasn't much that she could do to change her body shape, or the contours of her face, but she did endeavor to change her stance to give herself a taller appearance, and arranged her hair in a different manner to make herself a bit more unrecognizable.

And she could hardly recognize herself.

Scrunching her nose in distaste, Hermione sighed. She didn't want this. She didn't want to change herself, she didn't want to deal with new classmates and questions, and most of all she didn't want to be _here_. She loved her stupid, fat, lazy cat, but right at that moment, Hermione wanted nothing more than to lock the feline in his most hated crate and keep him there for a month.

That was unethical, of course, and she would never do that to poor Crooks, but it was a fleeting thought that she had trouble suppressing.

Frowning, Hermione sat on the edge of the tub and dropped her head into her hands. A disgruntled thought passed through her mind that her pseudo-hair felt like straw between her fingers, even if it did perhaps look nice.

She brushed the thought away. She'd managed the first part of the plan; now she needed more steps. She needed to talk to Dumbledore. What would she say?

"_Hello, sir. I'm a timetraveler, see, and I was hoping that perhaps you might have a space available for me in your classes. Any possible openings?"_

Hermione snorted. No, that wouldn't do at all. She needed a legit story – and preferably one where she wouldn't entirely have to lie, but perhaps only bend the truth a bit. She did, after all, have to keep in mind that this was _Dumbledore_, and he had a strange talent for knowing what was right and wrong, even if he wasn't entirely aware of the backdrop of the situations.

She could afford to be vague, she thought. Perhaps she could tell him that she'd been at a fifth year level elsewhere. She would have to rid of her Gryffindor robe, of course, and temporarily transfigure her school uniform into something more suitable – like jeans, maybe. That would take care of both the lack of clothing and the acknowledgment of her presence here.

But how would she _explain_ her presence here?

This question posed the most difficulty for her. She could say that she was a transfer student, but she had no parents to verify and sign for it, let alone the recommendations of her "former teachers."

It might be possible to tell the headmaster that she'd been homeschooled by a godparent, who had been killed in a recent accident. She felt guilty for making up the scenario, but there was no truth that she could bend that would allow for a new student without a parent's consent. A lie would have to suffice, despite the discontent that immediately started gnawing and nibbling at her insides.

Settled on her course of action, despite the obvious lack of detail, she stood to transfigure her clothing and discard her robes. She could've thought for hours longer about a proper story and situation, but she simply didn't have the time. She didn't want the dorms' inhabitants to find a random stranger mulling over the cruelties of life and _cats_ in their restroom, and quite frankly, the sooner she spoke to Dumbledore the more at peace she felt she could be.

Not that she was expecting the duration of her time in this generation to be peaceful.


End file.
